


heal me (in more ways than one)

by bluetopazharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, I know, Liam is a beckham, Louis and Harry - Freeform, M/M, Niall is also a physical therapist, OH YEAH SMUT, Okay bye, Physical Therapy, ages are not realistic, brief mention of a car crash, harry is 23, harry is his physical therapist, im probably missing something, im shitty at tagging, it had to be done, just go with it, larry - Freeform, larry AND ziam, liam beckham, liam is 25, louis is 27, louis is a professional footballer, niall has a prosthetic leg, niall is 25, one direction - Freeform, there will be smut, this fic is a MESS, zayn and liam - Freeform, zayn is 20, zayn is adorable, ziam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetopazharry/pseuds/bluetopazharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' physical therapist might just be everything he didn't know he was looking for (and didn't want to look for). </p><p> </p><p>Or the one where Louis is a professional football player and Harry is his physical therapist. </p><p>(ft. Niall with a prosthetic leg, Liam as a Beckham, and Zayn as his assistant and not-so-secret crush)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry glances around the room once more, twirling his keys around his finger and letting out a small sigh as he looks for the last time at the place that was his home for the past two years. The space is empty, save for a few boxes that his mum wants to keep despite his protests. She will come and pick them up later this week, after Harry is already in Doncaster. 

Harry decides that there's no point in dwelling, so he walks out the door and closes it behind him, stopping at the office to drop off his keys and let them know his mum will be by. He steps out onto the curb, calling a taxicab since his car had already been sent down to Donny.

The weather is humid, but strangely (or perhaps not, it is England) not hot at all. Still, Harry doesn't like the way his hair sticks to the back of his neck, so he pulls a hairband off of his wrist and ties his hair into a bun. The taxicab arrives a bit later, and Harry gets in the back, his mood too bittersweet for talking. He lets the cabbie know where to go, and some time later Harry is getting out, paying the man and giving him a generous tip for not trying to start a conversation. When he drives off, Harry walks into the building that he used to work in, the cool, clean smell all too familiar. His boots clunk on the linoleum floor, making sounds too loud for the quiet office. 

The receptionist gives Harry a tight smile, probably because she never worked during Harry's shifts, and therefore doesn't know him or the fact that he's here to say goodbye. He walks into Simon's office first, the older man looking up from his desk when he sees Harry. He stands up immediately, a grin that Harry can feel himself mirroring spreading across his face. Simon greets him, cheery but with a sad undertone, pulling Harry in for a hug and clapping him on the back. 

"Come to say goodbye to your cranky ol' boss, eh?" He laughs, and Harry does too, sitting down on a piece of equipment close by. 

"I just want to thank you again. Really, you've become like a father figure to me, and the fact that you've given me this opportunity is beyond gratitude." Harry speaks slowly and sincerely, meaning every single word he says.

Simon smiles at that. "It has been such an honor to watch you grow up into the fine young man you are today. You've outgrown this little facility, and it's time you go do the bigger, better things you were meant to do." 

Harry thanks Simon and stands up, giving him a final goodbye and telling him that he is leaving London after lunch. After the bittersweet interaction, Harry finds himself knocking on Nick's door. He answers after a minute, and grins when he sees Harry. "We off, then?" he asks, stepping out of the doorway in front of Harry and closing the door behind him.

"Suppose we are," Harry agrees, and after a short drive they find themselves at a diner, sitting at an outside table and waiting for Cara. The three of them had become good friends after Harry moved to London, which made the drastic change much easier. He isn't sure if they'll remain friends after this new move, but Harry understands that things change, and if they keep in touch, that's great, but if they don't, then that's fine too.

They have good conversation, recalling all the good times they'd had over the past two years. It's really satisfying to think about the past, but at the same time Harry is excited to think about the future. Eventually the time comes when Harry has to go to the train station, so the threesome stands up, an awkward but sad moment passing between them, none of them wanting to say goodbye. Harry eventually breaks the silence, pulling the both of them in for a hug and promising to talk soon. Then he finds himself back in a taxicab, only this time he's heading towards his future.

Not even twenty minutes into the four hour train ride to Doncaster, Harry finds himself incredibly bored. His long legs clad in tight black skinny jeans are stretched out underneath the seat in front of his, and his head is tipped back, staring at the ceiling above him. He drums his fingers on the window sill absentmindedly, debating on whether or not to use his precious phone data to save himself from this crippling boredom. 

Eventually, desperation wins out and he whips out his phone. He finds himself opening the Google app, wanting to find out more about the football team he will be working with, the Doncaster Rovers. He reads through their Wikipedia page, going section by section, absorbing all the information. He has always been that kid that loves field trips to museums, loves school simply because he likes to learn new things, and always has a question to ask, earnest for the answer. 

Harry reaches the players section of the page, and scrolls through slowly, taking the time to read each name and look at their picture. After all, these men are the people that Harry will be with year round. Might as well learn their names at least. He reads the name Louis Tomlinson, number twenty-three and apparently the team captain. He looks at Louis' picture, and to be honest it takes his breath away a bit. 

Harry has known since he can remember that he was gay. It was no secret, either. He remembers telling his mum after she married his stepdad that he doesn't want to marry a girl, and that he wants to marry his best friend at the time, Samuel. His mum just smiled and told him that that is perfectly okay, and he doesn't have to love a girl if he doesn't want to. And that was that. 

But seeing this picture of Louis Tomlinson is like discovering he's gay all over again, like he's just now figuring out what it's like to be attracted to another man. Because, holy cow, this man is attractive. Harry kind of wants to lick his face. And maybe a different part of his body too, but he's just going to pretend that thought didn't pop into his head. 

However, after googling the man's name, Harry knows that even his tamest fantasy between Louis and him won't come true, because the man is straight. So straight, that he has a girlfriend of four years. And she's gorgeous. It's a tragic waste of such a magnificent bum, but at least Harry can still fantasize.

When the train pulls into the station three hours later, Harry is beyond sore. Being as tall as he is, it's not easy to sit still for a long period of time comfortably. Harry steps out onto the platform, raising his interlocked hands above his head and stretching onto his tiptoes to get some relief. He feels his shoulders and ankles pop satisfyingly and he crumples back into a normal standing position. 

Harry finds himself outside of the station a few minutes later, climbing into a taxicab and directing the cabbie to the Doncaster Rover's home stadium, where he's to meet Niall and have a bit of an orientation, go over what he will be doing and such.

The stadium is huge, and Harry feels a bit intimidated, walking through the doors to the front office. He asks the woman at the desk where to find Niall Horan, and she leans over the desk, pointing down the hallway to Harry's right, telling him to go up the elevator to the fourth floor, and that the physical therapy center was down the hall. 

Harry follows her directions and ends up in a very pristine hallway. White walls and white linoleum flooring, the works really. He's just standing there, a little bit afraid of walking down the hallway in case he scuffs the flawless floors, when a door bursts open and a man appears, not noticing Harry until he's right in front of him, about to bump into him when Harry puts his hand on the man's shoulder to stop him from doing so. He jumps, clearly startled, but breaks out into a contagious grin when he sees Harry.

"Oi! You Harry Styles then?" Harry is about to say yes, but the blonde man hardly takes a breath before continuing on. "Great! Let's get started." He walks down the hallway and Harry follows, but he stops short and turns around. "I'm Niall Horan, nice to meet you." He extends his hand and Harry takes it, shaking his hand. After the exchange, Niall continues walking, throwing open a door and walking into the room.  

Once both the men are inside the room, Harry takes a look around. It looks like a gym, with big metal equipment laid out, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one wall. On a different wall, there's a small office with three glass walls. Inside it is a desk, chair, and a plastic exam table for someone to sit on. Overall, it's a very fancy and high-tech room, definitely a step up from Harry's previous work. 

Thinking about his old job, Harry remembers something he was told. His old boss was golf buddies with the physical therapist that treated Niall Horan, which is how Harry got this job. He remembers that Niall has a prosthetic leg, and finds himself looking at Niall's pants as if they will become see-through. 

Niall starts walking around the room, tapping each piece of equipment as he explains what each one does. Harry recognizes most of them, but some are really advanced, stuff that Harry has heard of but never actually worked with before. "So your official title is Physical Therapy Assistant, or PTA. But from your resume you seem very smart and I can see myself letting you take the reigns every now and then," Niall tells him, not looking at Harry as he walks in front of him, leading him to the small office Harry saw earlier. "Right. So this is my office. Usually when it's just one player coming in for specialized therapy, you'll consult with them in here first, but when the whole team comes in for generalized therapy to just stretch or whatever, they'll just do their thing out there, yeah?" Harry barely gets a chance to nod before Niall continues. "Anyway, it's a pretty simple job. Players don't get injuries that require physical therapy that often, and when they do most of them don't come in anyways. So we usually just hang out here and around the stadium." 

Harry claps his hands together, nodding in understanding as he looks around the room. "Sounds brilliant." 

Niall grins and claps Harry on the shoulder. "Knew you'd catch on. Now, how about down to the pub for a few drinks? We've been hard at work all day." Niall shoots him a wink. 

Harry wants to go, he really does, but he needs to go to his new flat and sort things out down there, so he tells Niall just that, but he isn't fazed. "That's fine then, we'll just bring the alcohol o'er there, yeah? Help you unpack, get a little drunk, it'll be brilliant!" 

It doesn't take long to crack Harry. Besides, he could use a friend in Doncaster, and his boss was as good as any. They stop at the liquor store on the way to Harry's flat; Niall drives them in his car, and in turn Harry insists that Niall stay the night so that he doesn't drive home drunk. 

Harry turns his key and opens his door, Niall already inside before Harry can even step in. It's a modest little home, with just a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and living room, but it's Harry's. And Niall doesn't seem to mind making himself at home, dumping the bag of alcohol on the kitchen counter and digging through Harry's boxes until he finds what he's looking for - a glass to pour his drink in.

After pouring out two drinks for the both of them, Niall joins Harry on the floor, where he's already begun unpacking furniture. By the looks of it, the furniture didn't come preassembled, so the pair are clearly going to have a great night. 

The drinks begin flowing and by the time it's midnight, both men are positively drunk. The furniture was ditched around ten o'clock, and Niall and Harry have been goofing off since then, being as unproductive as possible. The two end up sitting against boxes, getting to the point of drunkenness where they become honest and spill their feelings. 

"You know," Niall begins, his Irish accent much thicker when he's drunk, "turning eighteen for us UK men is supposed to be a rite of passage, yeah?" Harry mumbles in agreement, taking a swig from an almost empty whiskey bottle. "Well my eighteenth birthday sucked." Harry lets out a noise of pity, willing Niall to go on. "Me and my best mates went to a local pub, really well known, and got drunk, as you do on such an occasion. When it was two o'clock and we were getting kicked out, my buddy George was going to take us all home. He was supposed to be the designated driver, but he got caught up in all the fun and got drunk, and we were all too pissed to notice. I didn't remember anything from that night, only that I woke up in the hospital in a fuckton of pain. Georgie had run a red light, got smashed by a fuckin' semi. 

"The passenger side, where I was, was hit head on, and I was pinned for a good hour between the seat and the dash before the paramedics came. My mate behind me, Ben, didn't make it. I left the scene that day missing a leg and a friend. So now," Niall sighs, breaking out of his sad funk and rolling up his left pant sleeve, revealing a metal prosthetic, "I've got myself a fake leg. Only went into this profession because my physical therapist was a fuckin' miracle worker."

Suddenly Harry feels a lot more sober. He knows Niall has a prosthetic leg, but he has never been told the story behind it before tonight. "I'm sorry, mate," Harry whispers, unsure how to respond to such a heavy story.

Niall stays quiet for all of ten seconds before he lets out a reassuring laugh. "Oi, don't worry! It don't bother me at all! Things happen, and that's that."

Not even a minute later, the two of them are laughing over something completely unrelated, and Harry has to take a moment and realize that this is going to be an amazing friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis wakes up with a boner. His first instinct is to pretend it isn't there and go back to sleep, but then he realizes that people probably wake up their girlfriends and ask them to take care of it instead. So he rolls over and taps Eleanor's shoulder until she mumbles and sits up, rubbing her eyes. He asks her to get him off, and she flashes him a small smile before pulling down his pajama bottoms. Louis closes his eyes while she does the job, pretending it isn't her that's getting him off, but he will never admit that it isn't even a girl that he's imagining.

Louis loves Eleanor, he really does. They wouldn't be in a four-year relationship if he didn't. But lately he's been wondering if it's romantic love, or more of a friendly love. It makes him nauseous to think about, because the whole point of dating Eleanor is to fall in love with her. That's his plan - marry a girl, any girl will work, and make it to the big leagues; no one will have to know about how he feels on the inside. Growing up he saw all kinds of people have their careers ruined because they were gay, but not Louis. If he wants to be straight, then he'll do everything in his power to be straight. 

After Louis comes, Eleanor climbs on top of him, straddling him and leaning in for a kiss. "Maybe get me off, yeah?" she mumbles in his mouth as she works her lips against Louis' still, firm ones. He's a bit grossed out to be honest, because how obvious can she be, really? Louis breaks the kiss and gives her a tight-lipped smile before pushing her off and standing up, stuffing his flaccid dick back into his pants. 

"Sorry," he tells her, his insincerity painfully obvious. "Tea and some breakfast sounds amazing right about now though, yeah?" Eleanor looks a bit disappointed, and yeah, Louis does feel a bit bad, but he just kisses her forehead and gives her a hug and she's back to normal, grinning and oblivious.

After breakfast Louis makes some excuse about having to go down to the fields to practice a bit, and leaves Eleanor alone in their flat. He calls his mate Stan, telling him to meet him at the fields, and when he gets there it's only a few minutes that pass before Stan arrives too. 

They work on a few exercises in silence, switching from juggling to burpees to just passing the ball to each other, occasionally kicking it way out of the way just so the other one has to run and get it. It's when they're passing that Stan finally breaks the peaceful silence. "You nervous, Lou? For this season?" 

Louis shrugs, looking at a point in the distance and not at Stan. "What've I got to be nervous for?" He swings his right foot back and plunges it forward, the inside of his foot making contact with the ball and shooting it across the distance between the two boys. 

Stan stops the ball and traps it under one foot, staring at Louis with one hand on his hip. "Louis, it is a big deal, you know. Being team captain is a huge responsibility, and it's okay, in fact it's expected, if you're a bit nervous. I would be too." 

"Pass the ball, you bloke," Louis retorts, but answers seriously anyways as Stan rears up to kick. "I don't want to let them down, you know? What if I'm not good enough?" He moves his body in front of the approaching ball and stops it, picking it up and tucking it under his arm, waiting for Stan's reply. 

"That's rubbish and you know it!" Louis lets out a bark of laughter before raising the ball behind his head and throwing it as hard as he could at Stan, who heads it down to his feet. "You wouldn't be team captain if you weren't good enough." 

"Bugger off," he bites back, and sweeps his damp fringe out of his sweaty face. It is true, though. They appointed Louis as team captain for a reason. The only thing he should have to worry about is bringing the team to the championships, which he fully intends to do. So they spend the rest of their time in silence, and Louis feels loads better about the incoming season, not only because of Stan's advice but also because playing football has a therapeutic effect on him.

After a few more drills, the two call it a day and head their separate ways. Louis doesn't quite feel like going home yet, but the team's season kickoff banquet is tonight and god knows how long it takes Eleanor to get ready. (Louis probably takes longer, but who's counting, really?) 

When Louis opens the door to his flat, he finds Eleanor sat on the couch with Sophia and a bottle of wine between the two of them. He drops his keys on the platter next to the door and heads to their room, but then turns on his heal and doubles back, kissing Eleanor hello and letting her know that he will be in the room getting ready, because that's what good boyfriends are supposed to do. 

Louis retreats into the bedroom, pulling open his closet doors and staring at the hanging clothes in front of him. He's honestly clueless about what to wear, so he just goes for his typical dressed-up outfit - a pair of black skinnies and a blazer pulled over a plain white tee shirt. He does put on some nice dress shoes, so at least that's something. Eleanor starts getting ready when Louis is already dressed and heading to the bathroom to do his hair. 

An hour later and the couple are sliding into the limo. Louis takes the farthest seat, but Eleanor sits right next to him and places one hand on his thigh and her head on his shoulder, despite the fact that there's a whole other bench to sit on. Honestly, they're already together, do they really need to be stuck at each other's sides 24/7? Still, Louis smiles and grabs her hand.

The banquet is taking place at the stadium, with food being catered in from a 5-star restaurant. If this one is like the other two banquets Louis' been to in his career, there'll be one table for the actual football team, and another with people that work with the team during the season, as it's only polite. 

When Louis walks into the room with Eleanor on his arm, he finds their place cards set up right next to the coaches, seeing as he's the team captain and all. He makes light banter with his teammates around him for a bit before the head coach stands up, tapping on his glass with a silver butter knife. The room falls silent and everyone's attention is turned towards him. 

"Welcome everybody, to the 2015 Season Kickoff Banquet. Firstly I want to say how happy I am to congratulate Louis on being appointed team captain. I have no doubts that you will be the one to bring this team to the championships." A round of applause starts up, and Louis bows his head in appreciation. Then the room starts chanting for a speech, and Louis guesses he has no choice, so he stands up next to his coach.

"Em, I just want to thank you all for this opportunity. It fills me with joy to know that you all trust me so much to bring such an honor to this team. I-," Jesus Christ, is that guy sucking on his finger? 

Louis has to do a double-take, and looks at a man sitting at the other table. He is looking straight at Louis, eyes full of...lust? It must be, because two of his long fingers are inside his mouth, pulling his lip down. Louis can't stare for much longer, because he's pretty sure everyone is wondering why the hell he stopped his speech so suddenly, but he can't take his eyes away, not until he feels his dick twitch in his pants, and he's reminded of how wrong it is to be thinking of that man, any man, like this. 

"I- uh. So anyway," Louis starts, laughing awkwardly and casting a glance to the man, who seems to have broken out of his trance and is now wringing his hands together, his cheeks obviously flushed. "So, I-um, I promise to bring this team to the championships. I won't let you down!" 

The room cheers and Louis quickly retreats to his seat, embarrassed beyond belief. He doesn't know if anyone noticed his half-hard dick through his pants, but if they did he prays to god that they don't say anything, or he might die. Eleanor pats Louis' thigh because, bless her heart, she always seems to pick up on when Louis is upset. 

The head coach stands back up then, and claps his hands together once. "Right then. Now, it is my honor to introduce to you someone very special. He'll be with us for this season, helping us coach and train you guys. So please welcome your celebrity coach, Liam Beckham!" 

Everyone in the room cheers loudly as the door opens and Liam steps into the room. He looks like a nice enough fellow, definitely won't work them too hard, and Louis decides he's alright. Actually, it's pretty cool to have the son of David Beckham helping out, if he's honest. Liam steps up to make a speech, and the room falls quiet.

"Uh, thank you all so much for having me. I'm really excited to be working with you all, and I think we'll have a blast! So, uh, thank you." He nods and sits down in front of Louis, where an empty chair sat. The coach announces that dinner will be served shortly, and Louis thinks that being hungry and horny at the same time is a weird sensation. 

Louis lifts his eyes to look at the man at the other table, and although he can only see his long locks of chocolate brown hair, he can't help but admire the way they flow when the man tips his head back as he laughs in response to something a man in front of him says. They look awfully friendly, and Louis ignores the sharp spark of jealousy that flares in his chest when he explores the possibility of the two being together. 

Louis' brought out of his thoughts by Eleanor as she touches his hand and asks, "Babe?" He startles a bit, and quickly realizes he's biting on his index finger. Embarrassed and ashamed by how a man got him like that - half hard and biting on his damn finger - he lets Eleanor bring his hand down to her lap. "Alright?" she asks him.

"'M so hungry I could eat my own hand, I guess," Louis laughs and brings Eleanor's hand up for a kiss. Luckily she lets it go and smiles sweetly when Louis kisses her. He manages a tight-lipped grin and wonders how long he can keep acting like he loves Eleanor the way she loves him. 

By the time the main course comes out - lemon chicken - Louis' erection has, to his relief, gone away. So it's easier for him to pretend he's having a good time, and even sparks up a conversation with the celebrity coach.

"So, you like football?" Louis asks, and quickly realizes how stupid of a question that is. Of course he likes football, he's the bloody son of David Beckham. 

But the lad is way nicer that Louis expects, and just laughs kindly. "Oh no, is it that obvious?" 

They banter back and forth for the remainder of the meal, and Louis thinks it's probably a good idea to make friends with the celebrity coach anyways, although he wouldn't mind being friends with Liam even if he wasn't a Beckham. Then the head coach toasts to a great season, and that's that; the team and their girlfriends as well as all the staff members are heading to the elevators to go to the car park. 

Everyone starts packing into two elevators, and Louis notices too late that the man with the long brown hair is right behind him. So when Louis enters the elevator and gets crowded against the left back corner, it's that man's ass that's against Louis' thigh and his hair that is so close to Louis' face that he can't help but breathe in how wonderful it smells. Eleanor is right next to Louis, so he grabs her hand and holds it tight, leaning over to kiss her when the man's ass rubs right over his crotch and he feels a shot of arousal.

Despite being in the back, Louis is one of the first people out of the elevator, and he can practically feel the man's eyes on Louis, so he drags Eleanor to their limo as fast as possible, feeling suffocated by his emotions and arousal. 

Louis feels incredibly guilty. After all, shouldn't the object of his lust and attraction be directed towards his beautiful, loyal girlfriend? But it isn't. And that makes Louis a bad person.

That night when Louis has a wet dream, he has to pretend that it was about Eleanor, instead of a certain man with a tendency to suck on his own fingers. Nobody has to know that Louis was imagining him sucking a different part of his body. And besides, the chances of Louis seeing that man again are slim. He could be a janitor for all he knows. So who cares if he fantasizes? He's not actually doing anything. It's fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I can't believe I'm writing Liam as Beckham. It's a bit odd but I'm going with it. Second of all, I don't know if it was obvious or not but Louis has a bit of internalized homophobia going on. Third of all, I hate writing about Elounor a lot so expect way more Larry and Ziam in upcoming chapters. 
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for reading! You can find me on Twitter @clubbingwithlou if you want to chat or give feedback, that's always appreciated. I should note that school will be starting for me next week so don't get used to daily updates. Maybe once or twice a week, at most, I think. Sorry! Anyway, enjoy and I love you all!


	3. Chapter 3

Louis is 100% not a morning person. He's been this way his whole life in fact, and he blames his mum because, honestly, who lets a toddler sleep in until noon? But the habit formed and it stuck, so now Louis thinks he'd rather be dragged to the fiery pits of hell than wake up at 6:30 am for a bloody football practice. He's never been a violent person either, but when Eleanor shakes Louis awake after he blatantly ignores the fifteen alarms he set, he kind of just wants to take the blaring phone and shove it down her throat so she'll shut up. But honestly, Louis isn't one for violence. 

Regardless, the world, particularly his insane coaches, think eight o'clock in the morning is a perfectly reasonable hour of the day to function, and that's how Louis finds himself leaning up against a set of lockers with his foot on the bench in front of him, momentarily forgetting how to tie his shoelaces because that's how tired he is. Louis rubs his hands over his face, sighing as he does so, and blinks hard in an attempt to wake up. 

At eight o'clock sharp Louis is standing on the field, subconsciously digging the teeth of his cleats into the soft turf, because although he hates mornings with a burning passion, he's still the bloody team captain and tardiness is not a good way to start off his career as such. 

The coaches, including Liam, join the team on the field a few minutes past eight. (Really, Louis can't be late but the coaches can? Power trip, much?) They explain the schedule for today's practice, pointing out different stations on the field set to focus on refreshing particular footie skills. The stations are set up like a clock, and as the coach points out the stations Louis turns to look at each one. 

"That over there is your training station. We have weights and other equipment set up for you, and physical therapists to help you stretch and whatnot." He points to a station at the top right corner of the field, and Louis squints to see it. He can't see much, only some very large metal equipment and two people in white coats talking to each other. The coach begins talking about the next station, and Louis turns his attention away from the former. 

Sure, mornings suck, but once Louis actually starts moving and getting into the swing of things, it's easy for him to slip into a simpler state of mind. He starts at the middle of the field, taking shots on goal while Liam watches, silently taking critiques. Louis heads the ball down to his feet and turns to Liam, who honestly seems to be spacing out a bit. "Any suggestions?" Louis asks him. 

Liam looks at Louis, eyes widening a bit. He looks down at the ball at Louis' feet, and then back up at Louis. "Oh! Uh, no. I think you're, uh, you're doing just fine." He flashes Louis a smile, but Louis isn't done yet. 

"Are you sure? That last one was a bit off, don't you think?" Louis cocks his head, and places his hand on his hip. 

Liam flashes a glance at the goal, but returns his gaze to Louis. "Well, yeah. I mean, it wasn't too bad. Just.. put a bit more power into it next time. Keep your eye on the ball and all that." 

Louis bends down to pick up the ball and tucks it underneath his arm. "Oh sure, yeah of course," he says with a smirk on his face. Liam looks nervous, and Louis is thoroughly enjoying taking the piss out of him. He throws the ball at Liam, who fumbles with it for a bit before latching onto it with both hands and nodding at Louis, who walks up to him.

"I'm just fucking with you, yeah? Let's go to a pub tonight, how about that?" Louis claps his hand against Liam's chest, who gives a relieved smile. 

"Alright, yeah. See you then." Louis grins back and moves clockwise to the next station.

Louis works hard, getting back into the rhythm of things. It feels good to play after only having to occasional footie match with friends during the off season. He feels confident, and his previous worries of not being up to the responsibilities of the team captain melt away. He's got this. 

Louis dribbles a ball over to the top left corner of the field, placing it in the corner kick box. He glances at the goal, and back down at the ball before swinging his right foot back, whooshing forward to connect with the ball, and- oh my god, Louis would recognize that hair anywhere. He doesn't have time to freak out - barely enough time to say, "Watch out!" before there's a loud thunk, and the man that's been on Louis' mind for the past twelve hours is on the ground, yelping in surprise.

"Bloody hell, are you alright?" Louis asks, kneeling down beside the man who's laying on the green turf, both hands over his right eye, his left one squeezed tight in pain. "I'm so fucking sorry. I.. I got a bit distracted." 

The man blinks a few times, opens his left eye to look at Louis, and it widens in surprise before he recomposes hisself and looks away. "I think I'm alright," he says, giving out a shaky laugh before pulling his hand away from his eye, only to reveal a red palm and an equally red eye. "Oh. Oh my gosh. Maybe not." He pulls himself into a sitting position, suddenly pasty white. "I, uh. Whoa. I don't like blood." 

Louis winces, placing a hand on the man's forearm. "I'm really sorry. We need to get you some bandages." As Louis stands up, he holds out his hand for the man to grab, and when he does Louis decides to ignore the way he loses his breath, because there's more important things to worry about right now.

The man wobbles a bit when he stands, looking very pale, so Louis places his hand on his lower back in hopes to steady him. "Alright?" Louis asks, and he nods, pushing a small puff of air out between his lips. They start walking towards the elevators, but Louis can see how shaky the man is, so he tries to keep him distracted. "Hey. Hey, what's your name?" 

He looks down at Louis, his brow furrowing in confusion before realizing what he's trying to do. "I-- my name's Harry. Styles." 

Louis smiles at that, leading him into the elevator and letting him prop himself up against the railing. "What floor, Harry Styles?" 

"Fourth," Harry tells Louis, who presses the number. Harry nearly falls over when the elevator lurches, beginning its ascent, but Louis acts quickly and wraps his arm around his waist, steadying him. "It's really embarrassing. 'M just not good with blood." 

Louis rubs Harry's back, trying his best to comfort the younger man. "You're fine, love." As soon as the words leave Louis' mouth, Harry bites his lip and looks down, trying to hide his blush, and Louis does the same, only he's mentally kicking himself because, honestly, what kind of man is he to call another man 'love'? That's just gay. And Louis isn't gay.

When the elevator doors open, Louis pulls his arm away from Harry, who looks even more woozy from the ride up, but still starts down the hallway without even a glance at Louis. He wonders if Harry is straight too, because he seems to be just as embarrassed as Louis is. For some reason, he really doesn't like the idea of Harry being straight, so Louis pushes the though away. 

Harry leads Louis down a pristine, shiny white hallway, and opens a door about halfway down, holding it open for Louis to enter, who laughs because Harry is the injured one, so he takes the door and ushers him in. "Is this where you work?" Louis asks, wanting to break the tension that lay between the two. 

"Uh, yeah," Harry responds, opening the door of a glass office and entering, Louis following. "I'm helping out with Niall Horan this year. We're both physical therapist." The thin paper sheet that lays on the exam table crinkles as Harry sits on it, his thick thighs tearing it as he adjusts, poising himself on the edge. 

Louis steps up to the table to get a closer look at Harry, who spreads his legs for Louis to stand in between. He gasps softly, accidentally letting out a small oh, because the way that they're positioned means that Harry's crotch is right above Louis, and that makes him feel things. 

Louis looks up at Harry, and Harry is just staring at him so intensely, a question behind his gaze. Louis reaches up to Harry's hand, and Harry's eyes follow the path of his hand. Louis pulls his hand away from his eye, and clears his throat. "Where's the washcloths?" His voice comes out a bit raspy, and he coughs a bit to cover it. When Louis looks back at Harry he's not looking at him anymore, instead staring down at his bloody hand.

"Under the sink," he says quietly, and Louis nods curtly before stepping away from between Harry's legs and retrieving a washcloth, now wet with water. When Louis returns, he makes a point to not assume the same position as before, so he climbs up onto the table next to Harry and gently places the wet rag right above his right eyebrow, where the source of all the blood is. 

He only has the chance to dab it softly a few times before Harry grabs the cloth from Louis, mumbling a low, "I can do it." Louis is a bit put off, but ignores it and just sits next to Harry, watching him clean off all the blood. 

"Does it hurt?" Louis asks, studying the way Harry winces when he presses the cloth too hard on the cut. Harry stops and looks at Louis, the smallest of smirks appearing on his face.

"Yeah it fucking hurts, you wanker. Thanks for that." 

Louis giggles, raising both his hands in surrender. "I said I was sorry! Bloody hell,  I wasn't aiming for you!" Harry's grin reaches his eyes (is that a fucking dimple?), and by god it's the most beautiful thing Louis has ever seen. Harry's eyes are twinkling in delight, and Louis has to look away before he gets lost in them. This isn't going to happen, Louis is not going to crush on this man. It doesn't mean he can't appreciate Harry's charming, gorgeous, nope, just charming, smile.

Louis' pretty sure that Harry's noticed how long he's been staring at him for, so he asks, "Can I get you a bandage?" Harry nods, thanking Louis, who slides off the table with a loud crinkle, and looks around the room for a moment before turning to face Harry. "Um, where are they exactly?" 

"Up there, I think," Harry answers him, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to remember. 

Louis' gaze follows the direction of Harry's finger, and it falls on a cabinet that, for Louis, is just out of reach. "Brilliant," he mutters under his breath, knowing that he's about to make a fool of himself. Louis stands right underneath the cabinet, stretching up on his tip-toes as if he'll suddenly grow those few essential inches. He hears Harry chuckle softly behind him, and that just makes everything worse, so Louis sighs in resignation and returns to his normal stature.

Louis is about to turn around, defeated, and ask for Harry's help when he feels hot breath on his neck. And, oh, he feels two large hands grip his hips. "Let me help." Louis feels the quiet words blowing on his exposed neck, and he shivers. Not because of how close Harry is, obviously. It's a bit chilly is all. 

"Okay," Louis can feel himself whisper, feeling as if he can't speak any louder, and then Harry tightens his grip on Louis' hips and lifts him up, a whoosh of air blowing out of his mouth as he does so. Louis reaches for the handle and pulls open the cabinet door, spotting the box of bandages and grabbing it, doing it all so fast so he doesn't have time to think about how erotic Harry's hands feel on his hips. Louis means to say, 'You can put me down now,' but what comes out instead is a low, quiet yet clearly audible, moan. He feels Harry tense up, and suddenly Louis has both feet back on the ground and a very red face.

"Sorry," he hears Harry say, but shouldn't Louis be the one apologizing? Regardless, Louis says nothing, and instead hands over the box of bandages to Harry, watching as he places a bandage on the now clean wound. Louis' heart aches when he realizes that the taller man isn't looking at him, because fuck he didn't mean to moan, he's never been aroused by something as simple as someone gripping his hips. 

Still, Louis feels like he should say something, because they're both just standing there in the room, not looking at each other and not talking either. The tension between the two is palpable, so Louis says "Sorry for hitting you in the face with my ball," and then cringes because oh my god he didn't mean for that to sound as sexual as it did. It's quiet for a few seconds, and Louis begins to think that maybe he's really fucked it up big time, then Harry lets out a loud clap of laughter, the sound resonating in the glass room. Louis smiles then, the laughter like music to his ears.

"Yeah, well," Harry says with a laugh, the twinkle in his eye that Louis has come to adore in such a short period of time twinkling brightly, "maybe someday I'll get the chance to do the same."

It isn't until later that night, when Louis is in bed, when he realizes what other meaning Harry's statement can have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Sorry this chapter took so long to write, school is starting tomorrow so I've been pretty busy getting ready. Anyway, if you want to chat about this fic or Larry in general, feel free to follow me on Twitter @simplylwt :) I love you guys!!


	4. Author Update [aka I'm sorry for being MIA]

Hi guys! First and foremost I just want to apologize for dropping the ball on this book. I really intended to finish it, but school started and got in the way, and to be honest this school year has definitely not been easy on me. 

However! It is a new year and I fully intend to finish this fic. But I need your help! I've decided that I will write out the whole story before posting it, rather than doing updates. So there won't be an update for a while, but when it is updated it will be the entire book. I'm aiming to get it out by summer. This is where I need your help.

I'm currently looking for an editor/partner to stop me from dropping the ball again, help me come up with ideas and maybe write some stuff when I have writer's block, and generally be a hardass and stop be from being a lazy mess. I'm really excited for this fic and the potential that I believe it has.

I highly recommend bookmarking this work so that you can know as soon as I update it. 

If you're interested in helping me out please don't hesitate to DM me on Twitter at @clubbingwithlou. I'm really looking forward to finishing this and getting it out there, but I really do need your help.

Thank you!

Hannah

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you want me to continue! My Twitter is @clubbingwithlou if you want to chat or give feedback; you can also read this fic on wattpad at hannasaurus12! (give me a break it's an old username) I love you all and thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: um so I definitely didn't expect this to blow up, but thanks to fari (@tbirdlwt) it kinda did! so thank you to her. I'm sorry if you came here expecting a completed fic, but I do plan on seeing this through to the end, so please stick around!


End file.
